We lay there afterward, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync. I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. I wanted to stay inside him forever, stay wrapped around him, stay exactly here in this bed with the afternoon light slanting through the windows and our dog snoring in the other room.
“So,” Théo said eventually, voice wrecked. “How was Detroit?”
I laughed, the sound shaking through both of us. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
I lifted my head, looked down at the man beneath me—flushed and satisfied and smiling that secret smile that was only for me.
“Give me ten minutes,” I said.
“That a promise?”
I kissed the tip of his nose. “That’s a guarantee.”
He hummed, still tracing those patterns on my skin. Then his hand drifted lower, past my hip, fingers skimming along my inner thigh.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not stopping him.
“Thinking.” His voice was innocent but his eyes weren’t. “You know what feels really good?”
“What?”
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me properly. “When you were inside me earlier, did you notice how good it felt when you hit that one spot?”
“The one that sends you to another plane of existence?”
“Exactly.” A slow smile. “A prostate orgasm is completely different from a regular one.” He said it matter-of-factly, like he was explaining a skating technique. “Most guys don’t know what they’re missing. Or they’re too scared to explore it.”
“I’m not scared.”
“I know you’re not.” He kissed my jaw. “That’s one of the things I like about you. You’re not scared of trying new things.”
His hand was still on my thigh, fingertips just barely grazing where my leg met my hip. Teasing. Waiting.
“Is this something you want?” I asked. “To show me?”
“Only if you want me to.” He met my eyes. “No pressure. But I think you’d like it. And I’dreallylike to be the one to show you.”
My pulse kicked up—nerves and anticipation tangled together. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I pulled him closer, kissing him slowly. “Show me.”
His smile turned wicked. “Lie back.”
I did.
He reached for the lube, slicking his fingers, and settled between my legs. The position felt vulnerable in a way I wasn’tused to—spread open, waiting, letting someone else take the lead. But it was Théo. I trusted him.
“Relax,” he murmured, one finger circling my entrance. “I’ve got you.”
The first press of his finger inside me was strange—not bad, just unfamiliar. He went slow, giving me time to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Keep going.”
